THE DRAWBRIDGE. 301 



dids in the trees, and crickets everywhere, commence 

 their fearful racket, drowning every other sound. Often 

 and often I have had good grounds for believing that I 

 should be treated to a nocturne performed by a fish, or a 

 school of them, and such has been the result. Particu- 

 larly disgusting is such an experience when you have 

 brought a sceptical friend with you. He says provok- 

 ingly little, but seems busy at measuring the length, 

 breadth, and depth of your imagination. Often, when 

 I have failed through such mishaps to hear the fishes 

 that I knew were singing, I have, to misquote Tom 



Hood, 



Brought down my oar with a sudden Blam 

 That sounded like a watery " damn." 



In conclusion, I clip the following from a recent 

 magazine; its perusal gave me pleasure. The writer, 

 who is wandering in Florida, writes : " What impressed 

 me strongly were the mysterious sounds coming from 

 the inland waters during this cruise. I had been scep- 

 tical as to vocal fish, but to-day I have not the least hes- 

 itancy in declaring that fish have voices which are just 

 as distinguishable as if a man were singing in the room 

 where I am writing. Now, I had been quite aware that 

 certain fish (you can catch them off New York Harbor 

 and all along the coast) emit sounds when out of their 

 element, but I have never heard them before in the 

 water. "When off the Ten Thousand Islands, every quiet 

 evening, for hours together, strange sounds were heard. 

 Now they would burst forth on one side of the schooner, 

 now on the other. • Some fish was singing a solo for 

 our benefit." And from another publication I clip the 



